


In The Dark

by mansikka



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean in Denial, Dean is Bad at Feelings, Fluff and Angst, Human Castiel, M/M, Secret Relationship, Selfish Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-01
Updated: 2016-03-01
Packaged: 2018-05-19 13:05:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5968339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mansikka/pseuds/mansikka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean wants Cas, but he won't allow himself to take the risk, so he does what he always does; he takes what he can. By day, Cas is the baby in the trenchcoat, the butt of all his jokes and reprisals, and anything less than two feet from him is considered far too close. But by night, there's whispers in the darkness, caresses given in secret, care and attention that he begins to assume will always be his to take. But Cas is tired of being treated like a dirty secret, and wounded by the conflicting behaviour Dean shows him. What happens when Cas pushes him away?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The room is dark, lit only by the flickering from the laptop that Dean has balanced so that they both can see the screen.
> 
> Dean's eyes are drooping, and from the way he feels Cas' head repeatedly bumping against his shoulder, he thinks Cas must be on his way to sleep too.
> 
> Dean smiles into the dark; he likes this. These times he gets to have alone with Cas, just the two of them, when there's nothing to stop them from being as they are now; pressed firmly into each other's sides and completely relaxed. There are no eyes to judge, or words to tease. There are no looks that make Dean pull up short and feel the need to correct himself, to remind him not to give into his instincts that tell him to lean in to Cas and have something he's wanted for a long, long time.
> 
> He dares to let himself think Cas wants it too.

The room is dark, lit only by the flickering from the laptop that Dean has balanced so that they both can see the screen.

 

Dean's eyes are drooping, and from the way he feels Cas' head repeatedly bumping against his shoulder, he thinks Cas must be on his way to sleep too.

 

Dean smiles into the dark; he likes this. These times he gets to have alone with Cas, just the two of them, when there's nothing to stop them from being as they are now; pressed firmly into each other's sides and completely relaxed. There are no eyes to judge, or words to tease. There are no looks that make Dean pull up short and feel the need to correct himself, to remind him not to give into his instincts that tell him to lean in to Cas and have something he's wanted for a long, long time.

 

He dares to let himself think Cas wants it too. But then if he's too coward to show anything anywhere near affection for him in public, then there is no way on this earth he's going to come out and ask him directly about that any time soon.

 

And anyway. Doesn't Cas deserve better than someone who is, for all intents and purposes, embarrassed to be seen with him?

 

But in this moment, in the dark, when it's just them, it all feels okay.

 

“Cas,” Dean presses his nose into Cas' hair and inhales, closing his eyes at the scent he finds there. It's not the first time he's done that, and it's like a drug that he can't ever get enough of.

 

“Mm.”

 

“Sleep?”

 

Cas sighs heavily and leans even more into Dean's side, making him smile. “Perhaps.” But he doesn't move any further.

 

“Cas,” Dean whispers again, nudging him a little.

 

Cas grumbles in response and shifts slightly more upright. “I'm tired,”

 

“Yeah, I noticed that,” Dean laughs softly. “Wanna sleep?”

 

Cas huffs out a little breath that has Dean fighting back another smile. “I suppose so,” his voice speaks of the reluctance he has to move from where he is though, and Dean's traitorous mind makes a decision that's not going to do him any kind of good in the morning.

 

“So sleep. Here,” he says instead, ignoring the thoughts pounding against his skull.

 

Cas nods in agreement, and before Dean can take it back, or feel relief that Cas isn't going anywhere, he's wriggling down the bed and already under the covers, sighing in comfort into Dean's spare pillow.

 

Dean watches him there by the screen light, feeling his heart skip. How does this work?

 

Carefully closing the laptop lid and lowering it to the floor, Dean too shuffles beneath the blanket and allows himself to enjoy the heat of Cas there beside him for a moment. But of course, he’s suddenly wide awake, staring up at the ceiling and listening to the soft noises of Cas falling asleep. And he aches, for something he's too chicken to let himself have.

 

But at night, in the dark, when there's no one to see, perhaps it's okay to take a little.

 

“Gonna give me some room here, Cas?” he grumbles, but doesn't mean it; he's just said it to get a reaction. And it is the exact reaction he wanted; Cas is sighing and rolling a little away from him, just enough for Dean to have an excuse to reach out his arm and stop him from going too far. Then he's turning himself to face Cas, wriggling a little closer to him and relishing the feel of them being so close.

 

Cas seems to approve of this as well, given the little pleased sigh he lets out.

 

Dean's fingers flex underneath the cover with enough force for Cas to notice, and in his half-asleep state, Cas brings up a hand to rest on Dean's chest to stop him moving around so much. Instantly at the feel of Cas' palm against him, Dean is sliding his hand around Cas' waist, and pulling them flush together, and Cas gives out a little pleased huff.

 

Dean bites back his own groan of contentment and nods his head forward so that their foreheads are touching.

 

They are close enough to be in each other's breathing space, and when Dean feels Cas' breath move up across his cheek, he knows Cas is watching him.

 

Even in the dark, there is no one that can stare quite like Cas.

 

“You okay there, Cas?” he asks, recalling from memory every line and curve of Cas' face since it is too dark to really see him there in that moment.

 

“Yes,” and Cas' answer is so close to Dean's own mouth that he involuntarily parts his lips in a light gasp.

 

The dark is his safety net. So he presses forward, a gentle kiss to Cas' lips that he feels no resistance to, other than them curving up into a small smile.

 

Cas leans back into him, and returns the kiss, just as soft.

 

Dean closes his eyes, fighting between holding back and succumbing, but these soft, chaste kisses continue for as long as they both stay awake.

 

***

 

Morning comes.

 

The softness of the night is replaced by the rigidity of reality; Dean pulls back both physically and emotionally from Cas even though he is not yet awake.

 

Dean refuses to let his eyes do what they want to do, which is to drink Cas in, head to toe. He forces his heart to calm its beating and his gut to untwist from wanting, and rolls away, eyes straight up at the ceiling as his fingers clasp together firmly against his chest.

 

When Cas stirs, his automatic reaction is to lean into Dean's heat; why would he not assume that was okay, after their tenderness just a few hours before?

 

Dean is up and out of bed in a flash.

 

“Stuff to do today,” is Dean's only explanation, and when Cas fully wakes, he finds himself alone in Dean's bed.

 

***

 

Dean physically distances himself from Cas all day, or at least, he tries to. He knows the urge to be close to Cas will win out eventually, but the little control he does have allows him to keep it simple. A hand on a shoulder, or a nudge to an arm to point out something he is saying. Nothing that could be mistaken as intimate. Not really, anyway.

 

That Cas gets the message straightaway is both a comfort and a heartbreak to Dean, because it's so unfair of him to be like his.

 

So he does what only he does best. He pushes him away.

 

Cas remains silent as Dean berates him for every little thing he does. He rolls his eyes as though he's heard Dean's complaints a thousand times over, and technically, he has. He's always too close, or not quick enough, and way too trusting, according to Dean. He knows enough of Dean to hear the words coming out of his mouth but to read the truth of what he's saying in his eyes.

 

Because his eyes are telling an entirely different story. They are saying _please understand me_ , and _I don't mean to be like this_ and _I don't know what I'm doing here_.

 

It's a comfort to Cas, but it's never going to make up for the way Dean constantly pushes and pulls him. But Cas can't do anything to fight against the way he's feeling. If he had any sense, he'd tell Dean he didn't have the right to treat him like he is doing.

 

But for Dean, he has no sense at all.

 

***

 

It's another night where they're laid out on Dean's bed, watching something on his laptop. Dean's distance from Cas in daylight all but disappears without a trace once they're alone.

 

He's missed Cas, missed this closeness between them. Even though it's entirely all his doing. Even though it's only been a couple of days.

 

What happens if he gives in to what he's thinking of doing?

 

How will Cas react?

 

Dean decides to take a risk.

 

He reaches out a hand, which he feels Cas watching, slowly lowers the lid of the laptop, then grips it and places it on the floor beside the bed.

 

When he turns back to Cas, he's looking at him expectantly, and Dean can't blame him for that; he's not really sure what to expect himself if he's being honest.

 

Looking down at where their hands have almost been touching for the past hour, knuckles brushing against knuckles, he lifts his, pressing Cas' over, and threading their fingers together. Looking up to check Cas' reaction, he finds no rejection, so he squeezes his hand softly and smiles a little.

 

Tentatively, Cas smiles back.

 

Dean takes that as invitation.

 

With his free hand, he reaches over, while turning his body slightly into Cas shoulder. When his hand reaches Cas' face, Dean can't help but shudder a little at the feel of stubble against his palm. Dean lets out a sigh, and drops his face, leaning his forehead down on Cas'; why has that become such a comfort to him?

 

And then he's leaning down, pressing their lips together. Cas tilts his head up in acceptance, closing his eyes.

 

Kissing Cas is nothing like Dean's been allowing himself to fantasise about. It's better, and Dean doesn't really get how it can be any better than what he's been imagining. But the feel of Cas' mouth on his, the way he opens it up freely so that Dean can dart his tongue inside, it's just so much more than he could ever have come up with on his own.

 

Dean frees their hands and brings his up to cup the other side of Cas' face, and Cas' own hands rest on Dean's sides, doing little more than holding on. But the feel of Cas' hands on him like that has Dean pressing himself forward, and before either of them realise they've slid down the bed, with Dean pressing Cas back into the bed.

 

It takes them forever to sleep that night, because every time one of them pulls away, the other leans right back in, and there's not enough they can get of each other's lips. But it's still all so chaste; not one hand slips beneath a shirt to feel bare skin, as much as they're both itching to do just that, and more.

 

Dean gathers Cas to him, and falls asleep feeling the most content he's felt in a very long time.

 

But morning comes, yet again, bringing with it Dean's insecurities and fears.

 

This time, when Cas nudges into him, he actually holds Cas back, pressing a firm hand on Cas' shoulder and keeping him in place.

 

Cas raises sleepy eyes to him in question, and as the understanding seeps across his face to be replaced with reluctant acceptance, Dean feels himself every sort of villain.

 

This becomes a routine. By day, everything is stilted, and hard between them, strictly professional to the point where Dean knows he's overcompensating. He harsher, blunter, with Cas, and even with Sam, even though Sam's technically nothing to do with this.

 

But by night. By night he's casually or not so casually inviting Cas to watch a movie with him, and if they see ten minutes of something before they're making out and the laptop isn't in danger of crashing to the floor, then it must be a pretty riveting movie.

 

It's still chaste, nothing but kissing and pressing against one another whole-bodily, as though by only doing this, then perhaps it's not really happening at all.

 

Which is pretty ridiculous, even Dean can recognise that, because clearly, this thing with Cas is exactly what he wants to be doing. If it wasn't, then why would every night they spend together feel like home?

 

Why would he find that already, he can only sleep when Cas is there beside him?

 

But how long is it going to take before Cas starts pushing back?

 

***

 

The want Dean feels for Cas is growing. It's getting to the point where it is this all-consuming, constant distraction for him. He thinks about Cas, in every situation, whether it's somehow tied to what he's doing or not.

 

It's in the middle of one of their nights, when Dean's shifting against Cas insistently, and he allows the words he's thinking to escape from his lips.

 

“I _need_ you, Cas,” he whispers, desperately pressing himself against him. Cas lets out a small gasp and digs his fingers in a little harder into Dean's sides.

 

Dean rolls himself against Cas, and there's no mistaking his arousal. “I _want_ you,” he kisses into Cas' lips. He nudges his knee in between Cas' insistently, bracing so that he can slide himself on top of him.

 

Cas digs his fingers in, holding him firmly in place, ripping his mouth away from Dean and choking out a firm, “No,”

 

Dean freezes, hovering halfway over him.

 

Cas's eyes are dilated beneath him, and Dean can't tear his own away. “No?” he croaks out.

 

“No. You don't.” Cas' words come out stuttered, as though they're forcing their way out against his control.

 

“I'm pretty sure we both know that's not true,” Dean whispers against his lips, and for a second Cas' resolve slips, kissing him back, groaning at the feel of Dean grinding against his thigh.

 

“No,” he repeats again, and Dean can see how difficult it is for him. “You cannot keep doing this Dean. You cannot keep doing this to me.”

 

That finally stops Dean in his tracks, and he pulls back a little. “I thought you wanted this. I thought-”

 

“Make no mistake, Dean,” Cas brings a hand up to the back of Dean's neck, holding him firmly in place. “I _do_ want this. And I do want _you_.”

 

Dean smiles in relief, leaning back in to kiss him.

 

But Cas turns his face away. “You misunderstand me.” And to Dean's utter surprise, Cas is pushing Dean hard, back away from him, back on to his own side of the bed before sitting up, and breathing shallowly.

 

Dean is breathing hard himself, and a lot of that is in surprise. He looks at Cas' back since Cas is completely turned from him, and wonders if he should reach out.

 

He doesn't.

 

“I cannot allow this to continue, Dean. It is beginning to be too painful.”

 

If Dean's successfully managed to keep a lid on the guilt he's been feeling about these nights together, it's all gone to hell now. His stomach churns, and his heart races, and he's clueless as to what he's supposed to do. He can't argue that he thought Cas was okay with the way things were between them. He's seen the look of disappointment on his face every single time they've woken together in the morning and Dean’s walls have come crashing down between them.

 

“I didn't mean for that to happen,” he says quietly, slowly sitting up himself.

 

“I am sure it was not your intention,” Cas agrees, turning his head very slightly so that Dean can see him in profile, but still avoiding looking at him fully. “But that is what has happened.”

 

“So you wanna stop?” and Dean sucks his lip into his mouth, feeling its slight swell after being pressed against Cas' for much of the evening.

 

“Yes.”

 

Dean's heart protests the only way it can, by hammering hard against his chest. “Okay,” he mumbles, but there is no way in this world he is okay with this. Or that he knows what he's supposed to do next. “If that's what you want.”

 

Which makes Cas spin round, and glare at him. “Clearly it is _not_ what I _want_ , Dean. But you. You...” and Cas becomes flustered.

 

Dean's heart speeds up an impossible notch, but he remains still as though he is in shock.

 

Cas looks at him, hard, waiting for some kind of reaction.

 

And when he receives none, he is standing, and storming out of the room with a loud slam of the door.

 

Dean stares after him for what seems like ages, and sleep does not come to claim him that night.

 

***

 

Cas is cold towards him in the morning. He barely acknowledges his presence, and directs all his questions at Sam instead. He makes a point of taking on tasks that involve being on his own, and away from them both, and as Dean watches him all he can do is long to be braver.

 

Over lunch, Dean tries cracking jokes that would normally have Cas smiling, even if it is in affection at how stupid they are. But the most interaction he receives is a glare that makes him swallow painfully, and the tension between the three of them gets to the point where Sam is looking back and forth at them incredulously and making excuses to leave.

 

Cas waits less than a second before sliding out of the booth and following him, clearly not wanting to be alone with Dean for even a moment.

 

Dean tries to catch Cas on his own throughout the day, but Cas is having none of it. Every time Dean thinks he has a moment to speak to him, Cas is pulling away, finding reasons to be elsewhere.

 

At some point, Dean starts questioning himself.

 

What is it that he wants to say to him anyway?

 

Eventually, Dean corners Cas in his room that night. He comes into his room without knocking, leaning his back against the door. Stands there staring at Cas who's sat on the bed with a pen in his hand and a book on his lap, and is staring at him right on back.

 

“Been avoiding me today, Cas?”

 

“Yes.”

 

Dean swallows hard at his blatant honesty.

 

“Planning on keeping that up for a while?”

 

“Yes.”

 

Dean grows nervous under Cas' glare, and he looks down at his feet, up at the ceiling, anywhere.

 

“Feel like giving me a heads up as to when you might stop?”

 

Cas continues to stare at him for a while without answering. And then his face contorts in sadness that makes Dean want to reach out and comfort him. “Either for as long as it takes for you to decide exactly what it is that you want from me. Or until it stops hurting so much.”

 

Dean's own face cracks in pain. “I'm not trying to hurt you, Cas. I'm just tryna figure things out,”

 

“By taking me to your bed at night but ignoring me by day? You have to see how unfair that is. If I didn't care so much...” and Cas has to look away, ringing his hands together in his lap, twisting the pen over and over through his fingers.

 

“What do you want from me, Cas? This is all I am. It's all I'm capable of,” Dean's voice is pleading, but all Cas can do is snort in response.

 

“This is _not_ all you are capable of, Dean. But it is all you are willing to give of yourself. And it is no longer enough.”

 

Dean bites down on his lip; he's got all sorts of kneejerk, unkind retorts that are clamoring for escape, but he holds them in. “Tell me what you want.”

 

“I want _you_ , Dean.”

 

“That's not really telling me anything, Cas.” Which is a ridiculous thing to say, Dean knows that. It tells him everything he wants to hear, and more.

 

“I want you.” Cas repeats firmly. “I want to be more to you than what I currently am. I do not need any grand gestures, or promises made that you cannot keep. But I cannot share a bed with you at night and feel…” Cas huffs out a long breath as he chooses his words, “... _wanted_ , and _home_ , and spend the day as nothing more than your acquaintance. It is too hard to play both roles. I am either one or the other. You choose.”

 

“And if I can't choose?” Dean's hands are flexing and unflexing by his sides. How is he supposed to give Cas an honest, true answer, when he's not even sure of the answer himself?

 

Cas glances up at him for a moment then looks away again. “Then we continue as we are.” It's pretty obvious from the glimpse Dean gets from him that this option is not one that Cas is happy with. Dean's mind races at all the other possibilities that might happen as a result. Would Cas leave?

 

“And if I choose wrong?” he begs, seeking some kind of leverage because he really is clueless here.

 

Cas can only shrug. “Only you can answer that, Dean.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It has to be a sign of how important this thing is to him. Because Dean willingly seeks Sam out to ask him what he thinks. Not, he tells himself, Sam's opinion; that would be too close to a real conversation, and if he sets off thinking like that he'll never get the words out.
> 
> "Got a minute?"
> 
> "Sure," Sam says carefully, taking in the expression on Dean's face and immediately putting a bottle and glasses between them.

It has to be a sign of how important this thing is to him. Because Dean willingly seeks Sam out to ask him what he thinks. Not, he tells himself, Sam's opinion; that would be too close to a real conversation, and if he sets off thinking like that he'll never get the words out.

 

"Got a minute?"

 

"Sure," Sam says carefully, taking in the expression on Dean's face and immediately putting a bottle and glasses between them.

 

When Dean says nothing, just toys with the glass against his fingers, Sam takes a sip to give himself courage and dives right in.

 

"This about the thing with Cas today- I mean… lately?" Sam amends, knowing he might as well be truthful.

 

Dean clenches his jaw. His natural, go to reaction, would be to say, _what thing_ , and immediately be on the defensive. But that's not going to get him anywhere here, and anyway, is nothing but a lie.

 

"Yeah. About that."

 

Sam's eyebrows shoot up at Dean's honesty, and Dean finds himself slinging back his drink as a result.

 

"So...what about it? You done something to piss him off or what?"

 

Dean grimaces. "Yeah. Yeah, I guess you could say that."

 

"What?"

 

And the grimace is followed with a snort. "Probably won't believe me."

 

"Try me." Sam's face is nothing but willing, and Dean prays to no one in particular that his brother's really as cool as he thinks he is. Not that he'd ever admit that to him.

 

"Maybe I've been... Maybe I've..." And Dean huffs out long, and hard, desperately wanting the words to be out already.

 

"So maybe. Me and Cas. Maybe the past few months. Maybe he's been... I've been..." And he's reaching for another drink now, because those damn words keep on getting stuck.

 

Sam says nothing, just waits expectantly. He thinks he knows what's coming anyway.

 

"Okay. So. Few months back, we were watching a movie together. In my room. And it got late. And I told him to stay."

 

Deans eyes shoot up to monitor Sam's reaction but his face is nothing but a mask.

 

Dean breathes in, and holds it there, before quickly firing out, "I kissed him.” His breath comes out sharply, sounding tinged with relief. “Nothing big, you know? But I did it, and I don't regret it, and..."

 

"And..." Sam prompted.

 

Dean lets his hands fall heavily against his thighs. "And he didn't object, okay?"

 

Sam's face twists into a smile, and Dean knows he's holding back from teasing him. "That's good. Great, even."

 

Deans eyebrows shoot up and he stares at Sam open-mouthed.

 

"It... it is?"

 

"Yeah, Dean. It is," and Sam lets out a little laugh like he doesn't believe that Dean would think any other way. And to be honest, because it's been such a long time coming.

 

When Dean doesn't seem to be able to answer, Sam presses on. "I mean. You two've been dancing round each other for so long, I always kind of assumed it'd happen at some point. I'm happy for you," and Sam's open, genuine smile is met only with Dean's bafflement.

 

"You are?" He punches out, incredulous.

 

"Of course,” Sam smiles again, pouring them another drink. “So what've you done to piss him off? Steal all the covers or something?"

 

Deans eyes grow impossibly wide.

 

"What?" Sam asks, exasperated.

 

"You're _okay_ with this? Not that this is a _this_ , it's a...  _mess_ , is what it is," Dean says, more to himself than to Sam.

 

"Uh... yeah?"

 

Dean leans forward as though he's checking to see if it's really Sam he's talking to. Like he doesn't honestly believe it could be that easy. "You've noticed that he's a dude, right? An actual, real life, fallen angel walking the Earth dude. With dude parts?"

 

Sam takes his turn to snort out, spraying drink everywhere. "Hey. I didn't ask for details," he laughs, grabbing a wad of kitchen towel and mopping up after himself.

 

"I don't have details to give!" Dean protests.

 

Sam narrows his eyes. "Wait. What?"

 

"What? What do you mean by _what_?"

 

"I mean. You said a few months, right? You're telling me there's been nothing but the odd kiss between you?" Sam knows his brother. And doesn't believe that for a second.

 

"That's exactly what I'm saying, Sam! I mean... How are you okay with this?" Dean demands, still incredulous.

 

Sam's face takes on his patented _talking to a wounded animal_ look. "How would I _not_ be? I don't care who you're with if they make you happy, Dean. That's all that matters. It's not like I didn't know you felt... something, for him.” Sam takes a sip of his drink, and carefully begins his next sentence, watching to gauge Dean's reaction. “And it's not like he's the first guy you've ever... noticed, is it?"

 

Sam looks at him with such earnest expectation that Dean finds himself sweating. "...what?"

 

"Dean.” Sam says with a laugh. "C'mon. You're about as discrete when you're checking someone out - girl  _or_ guy, as I'm likely to take up... clown school," he finishes pathetically, screwing his nose up at himself.

 

Dean continues staring at him open-mouthed, so Sam tries again.

 

"I saw you, Dean," He says softly, as though he's scared anything louder will scare Dean off.

 

Dean's face loses its colour, and there's fear in his eyes when he answers with a short, "What?"

 

Sam smiles sadly, pursing his lips together before he carries on. “You were sixteen. I was waiting for you near the track after school like you told me to, and I saw you-"

 

Dean cuts off Sam's words with a choked noise in the back of this throat, and his mind drifts back to a teenage fumble that he's remembered guiltily more than once, but always, always kept to himself.

 

"You saw that?" He stabs out in horror, wanting the ground to open up and swallow him there and then.

 

Sam brings his glass down heavily against the table, and the look on Dean's face just makes him reach over to refill his glass. "Yeah, Dean. And like I said. It makes no difference to me."

 

Dean just stares back dumbly.

 

"I like Cas," Sam adds, hoping to prompt Dean out of his stupor.

 

All Dean can do is nod.

 

"So. What did you do?" Sam asks, feeling very much like he's missing something important here. And he needs to keep pressing on if he doesn't want Dean to seize up and stop talking.

 

"What did I do?"

 

"Yeah. Must've been something big. I mean. I've never seen him look that fucked off with you before. And if you've been together for-"

 

"We're not _together_ ," Dean insists, and he says it as though he's had a revelation.

 

That pulls Sam up short. "Wait. You're not?"

 

Dean shakes his head, really slowly.

 

"So," Sam starts, suddenly not liking the picture he's getting. "You've kissed the guy, and shared a bed with him," and he catches Dean wincing and frowns, "but what. Come morning you pretend like none of it happened?"

 

Deans either impressed that Sam got there so quickly, or ashamed that he's so easy to read. All he can do is nod miserably.

 

“That's why he's been so quiet, or pissy, all this time? Why you keep barking at him every chance you get?” Sam's voice has grown shrill, demanding an explanation.

 

Dean just nods again, and hangs his head in shame.

 

And now Sam is pissed off. "Tell me you didn't,"

 

Which of course, Dean can't do.

 

Sam slides back his chair, scraping it heavily across the floor. "Dean. Of all the fucked up things to do," he manages, unable to keep the disapproval from his voice.

 

Dean nods, glumly reaching for the bottle.

 

"And to _Cas_ ," Sam adds, his voice full of disbelief at Dean's stupidity.

 

"I _know_."

 

"But... _why_ , Dean?"

 

"I didn't think... I mean. I didn't think you'd approve," he tries, weakly, clutching for any kind of reason that is halfway to a good one. He's got nothing.

 

"Don't put this on me," Sam glares back him. Dean knows it's justified.

 

"I don't know, Sam."

 

Sam huffs, tapping his fingers against the table surface. "Yeah you do. You don't approve of yourself. You've never approved of yourself.” Sam shifts in his seat a little, holding Dean's gaze steadily. “You've created this... image, and the second you veer off track and let yourself feel something, or be who you really wanna be, you freak out. And hurt people. But most of all, you just keep hurting yourself. When are you gonna learn, huh?"

 

Dean groans, resting his head in his hands.

 

"I fucked up, Sam."

 

"Yeah, you _did_."

 

Dean looks forlornly down at the table, but Sam's not yet ready to let it go that easily.

 

"I mean seriously. Do we live in the dark ages all of a sudden?"

 

"Guess not." Deans whole demeanour takes on that of only the most chastised, and humble.

 

For a while they sit in silence, lost in their own thoughts as they drown in their own drinks.

 

"Wish I'd told you," Dean eventually says, and his eyes are wistful. Sam doesn't say anything, just stares on back. "About Cas. About. You know. Back then."

 

Sam’s expression softens, and Dean allows himself to feel comforted by it. “Me too, Dean.”

 

Dean looks away, fingers tapping an erratic pattern on his glass. “You know. Dad-”

 

“Dad would've been a jerk about it.” Sam says in distaste, and he sees agreement in Dean's eyes, even though he knows Dean can't bring himself to say it out loud.

 

“Not like I coulda gone to him for fatherly advice, right?” Dean mumbles bitterly. Sam's heart breaks a little for his brother then, wishing over and over there was something he could give him back that would make up for all he'd sacrificed over the years.

 

"You know what gets me most about this?" Sam says, averting his eyes, because he's sure Dean won't like seeing the sympathy there.

 

"What?"

 

"That you went through all your life thinking you had to hide this part of yourself. Like you thought I'd see you any differently. You're my brother, Dean." As though that is enough to explain everything.

 

If Dean's eyes are tearing up a little then, neither of them comment on it.

 

"Don't think this means I'm not gonna tease your ass once you two figure this out," Sam warns him with a smile and a pointed finger.

 

Dean groans, but smiles right back. "I expect nothing less,"

 

And they clink their glasses together, giving a silent salute before refilling once again.

 

"So," Sam asks, draining his glass, a little slower this time, "What now? What's the plan?"

 

"The plan?" Dean asks, knocking back his own glass.

 

"Yeah. The plan. To fix this."

 

Dean huffs, slumping a little after his high of being honest. "I got nothing."

 

"Want me to clear out for a bit?" Sam offers, and Dean gives him a grateful smile, but shakes his head.

 

"I don't know, Sam."

 

"But this is serious," Sam asks, seeking clarification.

 

Dean thinks to himself for a moment, about exactly how Cas makes him feel, and it's terrifying, exciting, and like coming home, all at once.

 

“Yeah, Sam. I think it is.”

 

“Then what does Cas need so you can make this thing right?”

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You busy?” Dean stands in Cas' open doorway and knocks once on the door.
> 
> Cas is over at his desk and has to turn around to face him. He stares up, head tilted to one side in curiosity. “Not especially.”
> 
> “You up for taking a ride with me?” Dean's hoping his words come out intact, be he can hear how his voice is catching and feels his mouth trembling as he speaks.
> 
> “Where?”
> 
> “Haven't decided yet. Thought maybe we could just drive. You know. Talk?” Dean desperately wants to look anywhere but at Cas, but he also knows he can't. So he forces his chin to stay up and waits, outwardly patient, for Cas to respond.

“You busy?” Dean stands in Cas' open doorway and knocks once on the door.

 

Cas is over at his desk and has to turn around to face him. He stares up, head tilted to one side in curiosity. “Not especially.”

 

“You up for taking a ride with me?” Dean's hoping his words come out intact, but he can hear how his voice is catching and feels his mouth trembling as he speaks.

 

“Where?”

 

“Haven't decided yet. Thought maybe we could just drive. You know. Talk?” Dean desperately wants to look anywhere but at Cas, but he also knows he can't. So he forces his chin to stay up and waits, outwardly patient, for Cas to respond.

 

After a moment, Cas nods. “Okay.”

 

Dean shoots him a relieved smile, and Cas returns a curious one before following him out.

 

They are silent for a mile or two, with Dean rehearsing what he wants to say over and over, before thinking, screw it, and clearing his throat.

 

“I told Sam,” he offers, keeping his eyes on the road even though he can feel Cas staring at him.

 

“You told Sam,” Cas repeats, looking for confirmation.

 

“Yeah. I did.”

 

Cas keeps on staring. “What did you tell him?”

 

Dean's breath catches a little. “I told him. I told him that... you and me. We'd... kissed. And… stuff. A lot,” he blushed a little at that but ploughed on anyway. “And that I'd been a total jerk about it. Pushing you away like I did.”

 

Once the words are out there, Dean feels an odd sense of freedom. And surprise at himself, for actually getting them out.

 

If the staring he can feel boring into the side of his face is anything to go by, Cas is even more surprised.

 

“Sam thinks I'm a jerk too,” Dean adds, which seems to break Cas out of his spell a little.

 

“He does?”

 

“Well. He didn't use those precise words. But yeah. Overall, he thinks I'm an idiot. Gotta say,” Dean laughs a little, although it's dry, and directed entirely at himself, “I kind of agree with him,”

 

“Kind of?” Cas' answers are short, incredulous-sounding, like he's really not sure that he's hearing what he thinks he's hearing.

 

“More than kind of.”

 

Dean takes his eyes off the road for the first time and looks over at Cas. “I'm sorry, Cas. I had no right. I shouldn't have been like that with you. It wasn't fair, not at all. Not for a minute.”

 

Dean turns his gaze back to the road, and swears he can hear Cas thinking next to him.

 

After a while of silence, Cas offers, “Perhaps I should have made my… preferences... clear from the beginning. Perhaps I should have not... accepted… what you were offering… so easily.”

 

“Hey, don't put this on you. I'm the one that messed up, okay?”

 

Dean sees Cas' head drop beside him, and knows he's staring down at his fingers, twisting them together. It's a gesture he's come to recognise as one synonymous with Cas feeling guilty. And there is really no reason at all for him to be feeling like that.

 

“But I wanted you, Dean.” Cas looks up then, and there’s pain in his eyes that Dean wants to take away by any means possible. “Perhaps I was too eager to take whatever you could offer me and-”

 

“No blame, Cas. Please?” And in a more doubtful tone, “And by 'wanted'...” And Dean’s stomach churns over in fear, “...That mean you don't... you don't... now?”

 

“Dean,” and if Cas' voice isn't urgent enough with the need to reassure him, then his hand softly curling around his shoulder goes a long way to help.

 

Dean reaches up and at an awkward angle lays his hand on top of Cas', squeezing it a little before dropping it back down.

 

They drive on in silence for a couple more miles, and Dean is suddenly turning off. Cas turns to him in question but Dean just shakes his head once, eyes fixed before him.

 

They're pulling in to the car park of a shopping outlet, and the second Dean cuts the engine he's across the seat and kissing Cas hungrily. It takes Cas no time at all to be kissing right back, both of them sighing in a way that says how much they've missed doing this, even if technically it's only been a couple of nights since they last kissed.

 

Dean's hands are holding Cas' face gently, his thumb stroking through Cas' stubble in appreciation. Cas is a little trapped in the seat beneath Dean, not that he minds, but he manages to press his fingertips beneath Dean's jacket and against his shirt.

 

Dean pulls back breathlessly but doesn't drop his hands. He's staring at Cas with what he knows is probably a ridiculously happy grin on his face, which Cas can't help return, if not a little shyly.

 

“So. That was kind of my way of asking for your forgiveness,” Dean says, and Cas' smile splits wider as he nods.

 

“Is that a yes?” Dean ducks his head a little, checking Cas' reaction.

 

“Yes, Dean. I forgive you.”

 

Dean closes his eyes in relief and breathes out as though he's been holding it.

 

And then he's pulling back from Cas again, which does nothing but leave Cas bewildered.

 

Dean waves a finger in front of his face asking Cas for his full attention.

 

“Good. 'cos I wanna try and do this right.”

 

Cas' eyes narrow in confusion, which just makes Dean smile wide.

 

“Can I kiss you, Cas?” Dean asks, and now it's his turn to be bashful.

 

“Of course,” Cas stammers, his face clearly saying _but why are you asking now when you just did that_ , and Dean surges forward again, kissing the expression right off of his face.

 

When they pull back this time, they're both a little breathless.

 

“The first one,” Dean says, leaning in and sneaking another quick kiss, “Was because I couldn't stop myself. I told you I need you, Cas. I wasn’t lying,”

 

Cas nods, his cheeks blooming a little red.

 

“And the second,” Dean says, reaching out to trace his thumb along Cas' jawline, “I wanted to make sure I had permission for. Like I said. I wanna try and do this right.”

 

There’s the shortest of pauses, and then Cas is clearing his throat.

 

“Just so we're clear,” Cas says, eyes dropping to Dean's lips as he leans forward, “You do not need to ask for permission to kiss me again,” and before Dean can even answer Cas is kissing him back.

 

This kiss is different; in the entire time they've been doing this thing, Dean has always been the one to initiate everything. Dean has a feeling that it's because Cas didn't want to take what he wasn't sure would be freely given, and that hurts, a lot. Because Dean knows what an idiot he's been about it all.

 

But this kiss is distracting enough for him stop caring about that. He feels Cas' lips nudge his own apart, and when Cas hesitantly flicks his tongue into Dean's mouth, the moan that escapes from his own throat sounds obscene to even Dean's own ears. He surges forward, chasing Cas' tongue with his own as his fingers grip reverently through Cas' hair, and he feels Cas' hands curling around the collar of his shirt, fingers reaching out to stroke small circles into his neck, which Dean loves.

 

It's the first time Cas has touched any part of him other than through his clothes, and if this tiny gesture feels this good, Dean's pretty sure he's going to be completely helpless from every single thing Cas does from here on out.

 

He likes that thought, a lot.

 

“So,” he says, some time later, when they've managed to pull back from one another for more than a breath. “I know you said no grand gestures. And believe me – that's good with me,” Dean says, looking relieved enough that Cas can't help but smile. Before Dean can continue, Cas is hesitantly reaching out his hand, and Dean grabs it so there's no chance of Cas mistaking that it's what he wants.

 

Looking down at their entwined fingers, Dean asks, “But can we consider whatever happens for the rest of today, a date?” He looks up so hopefully that Cas can't stop himself leaning in to kiss him again, nodding softly against him.

 

***

 

The room is light, sun shining in through the sheer curtains and bathing everything it touches in the soft light of morning.

 

Dean is the first to wake, and stretches just a little, careful not to move too much because he doesn't want to disturb Cas. He looks down to the mess of hair that is Cas' head, fast asleep on his chest, and smiles, running a gentle hand over him in a way that suggests he'll never get enough of Cas' hair beneath his fingertips.

 

Dean slides his hands down Cas' back, and even in sleep, Cas arches at his touch, sighing contentedly into Dean's skin. Dean holds him there, enjoying the quiet of the moment and the feel of Cas in his arms. That's another thing he doesn't think he's ever going to get enough of, he thinks to himself.

 

When Cas does wake, he presses a kiss into Dean's sternum, scraping his chin there as he tilts his head up before resting it there, sleepy eyes fixing on Dean with a smile.

 

“Good morning, Dean.” he mumbles, voice deep and rasping with sleep.

 

“Hey, Cas.”

 

Cas smiles, closing his eyes for a moment, before opening them again, fractionally more alert.

 

His eyes dart over to the table next to them, and Dean knows what he's seeing. There's a mostly empty bottle of champagne that they'd drunk directly out of over the course of the evening, and the crumbled remains of a bar of chocolate that Cas had practically inhaled.

 

Dean didn't really think he'd ever be the kind of person to celebrate an anniversary, but over the past year he's found himself doing all kinds of things for the first time, experiencing them both for himself and through Cas' gleeful eyes.

 

Sam says Dean's permagrin is giving him a migraine.

 

Dean says Sam needs to get laid.

 

It had been Sam's idea for the two of them to go away for the night. And whilst this place really isn't the Ritz, and isn't anywhere near special enough to compete with all those fancy hotels people apparently whisk their loved ones off to in romantic gestures, it was perfect for them.

 

Cas grumbles lightly into Dean's chest, reaching out with grabby hands for the chocolate.

 

“Seriously? For breakfast?” Dean chides him, all the while angling his arm uncomfortably so he can pass it over to him.

 

Cas rewards him by dropping small melted pieces of chocolate on to his chest and taking a long time to lick them up. Dean can only watch with a smug, contented grin that speaks of just how lucky he he knows he is.

 

And when Cas has finished his early breakfast treat, Dean wriggles down the bed a little further with the intent of giving him another one.

  
  
  
  


 


End file.
